Counterfeits and Cauldrons: Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 6)

by Raven Snow

  A couple of volunteers took me from Mrs. Debutante and pulled me into an empty dressing room. Without even a mention of buying me dinner, they stripped me down to my underwear and pushed me into a mountain of a dress.

  It was a pretty pink color, complete with a poufy skirt, beading, and all kinds of sparkles. Despite all that, it was almost modest, covering everything but my shoulders. It was a foreign feeling, being so covered up.

  Before shoving me out to wait with the other contestants, they slapped heels and makeup on me, putting my hair up in a twist that looked natural but was probably endlessly complicated.

  The door slammed behind me, and I looked back at it for a moment too long, running into something solid. It turned out to be Sarah Goodfellow, apart from the group of contestants, and looking stunning in a green dress that looked a lot like mine. Her expression, when she took me in, was pleasantly surprised.

  “Harper, you look amazing,” she said pleasantly, and then ruined it by continuing. “Has your husband seen you?”

  “He’s not−no. He hasn’t.”

  A faraway look appeared in her eye. “You’re very lucky to have him. You know—that you two match so well.”

  “I do know,” I said, meaning every word.

  “It’s difficult for witches to match up with humans,” she said, surprising me with how non-perky her voice sounded. “And not all of us can give up our magic to be with them.”

  I wasn’t sure I liked being a part of this conversation anymore. Stiffly, I said, “I didn’t give up my magic for Wyatt.”

  “You’re very beautiful,” she said, stepping closer, veering to another subject.

  “It’s the makeup.”

  She smiled, and it was a complicated thing. The expression wasn’t precisely unhappy, but it had too many layers to compute. “I was talking about on the inside. Your magic is breathtaking. It compliments my own perfectly.”

  A couple of volunteers, thankfully broke us up then, shooing us toward the line of contestants that were waiting for their spotlight dances. This would be the only time, except for the very end, when we would dance completely alone with our partners.

  Sarah joined her husband near the front of the line, and I thanked my lucky stars that Wyatt was stationed in the back. I tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned, grinning. His smile faltered when he saw me, his face sobering in a moment of surprise.

  “Well,” I said, doing a little turn. “What do you think?”

  “You look beautiful.” But he was still staring at me.

  I raised an eyebrow, ignoring that the dress was starting to rub me the wrong way in places. “Not everything you hoped it would be?”

  Though I’d been fighting Wyatt on this marriage thing for as long as we’d been dating, the thought of him not wanting to marry me—because I didn’t fit—was so much worse than the thought of leaving him. My whole life I’d been an outcast, not really fitting wherever I went. Wyatt, in an inexplicable way, made me feel like an outsider and a part of his life at the same time.

  He ran his fingers over the dress, frowning. “It’s breathtaking, but… you don’t look like you.”

  My heart warmed a little, the horrible feeling of not being good enough dissipating. “Maybe I should wear my disco shorts to the church.”

  Laughing, he leaned in to press a kiss to my temple, his lips straying from their course and ending up on my lips. “Just so long as you show up.”

  Julio and Jamie were the first ones onto the floor. For the first time, I realized that there would be an all-male couple dancing together in the heart of Waresvillle. Being a small town in the south didn’t exactly make people open-minded, but to my pleasure, no one was unkind—even the dragon lady, Mrs. Debutante—while they were taking their turn.

  Julio rested his head on Jamie’s shoulder, causing the young man to jerk in surprise. If Julio noticed, he gave no indication, sighing dreamily while he was whirled across the floor.

  “He looks happy,” I said to Wyatt.

  Unfortunately, the Goodfellows, who had wandered toward us, had big ears. Ben looked back at the couple on the floor, frowning. Before he could say anything that would introduce him to the business end of my heels, Wyatt shot him a warning look.

  He shrugged. “I suppose Julio deserves a moment of happiness. What with everything falling down around his ears.”

  The “suppose” in that sentence made me grit my teeth, but the detective in me had to ask questions. “What do you mean?”

  “Mr. Ramirez is one of my new clients.” And, apparently, Ben didn’t believe in client privilege. “He’s in a lot of financial trouble—was even before this counterfeiting business. We’re trying to save his shop, but the numbers just aren’t adding up.”

  Sarah fussed over him, telling Ben how he was the best accountant in the world and he couldn’t blame himself. Her husband preened under her praises, and it made me vaguely nauseous. I didn’t have to stomach them for long, though, because they were up next.

  “Julio’s having financial troubles, hmm?” I said to Wyatt as they moved away.

  “It’s Peter’s case,” he said automatically, not like he really believed it would do any good. I was like a bloodhound, and once I had the scent, there was no stopping me. With a smile, I thought that Wyatt was the exact same way.

  Mrs. Debutante’s score for the couple was pretty low, but the dancing had been flawless. Her face was carefully expressionless when she held up her score card, but I could smell the disapproval coming off of her.

  Carson Smiles was sitting in the next judge’s chair, watching every move Julio made. He didn’t seem to spare a glance for Jamie, and it wasn’t until they’d left his sight that he seemed to remember he was supposed to give a score. Flushing red, he held up a perfect ten and a huge smile.

  One judge noticed me staring and sneered. Apart from Kosher, there was only one other person in this town that I really considered an enemy, and there she sat. Melanie Gross led the local witches’ coven, a competing magic store to my Gran’s, and had a large nose that was always turned up to people.

  I had to peer around a couple people to see the last judge, and when I did, a wave of anger rushed through me. It was Oliver, wearing his favorite red cape and a smile nowhere near as genuine as the mayor’s faux grin. His score was the most reasonable.

  “Since when does he participate in this thing?” I grumbled to Wyatt.

  Making fun of the dance competition had always been something we’d done together. We’d gone every year, booing the dancers and throwing popcorn. Our savage commentary had always left my sides aching from laughter. Now, they just felt hollow.

  “He didn’t sign on until a couple of hours ago,” a volunteer said to me. She was called away a moment later, leaving me to my thoughts.

  Wyatt, in that uncanny way he has, voiced them. “After you signed up.”

  “Don’t start.”

  Ben and Sarah’s dancing was beautiful, as I knew it would be. My mind was far away as I watched them, thinking of disappearing money. My new neighbors were creepy and magical, no doubt about it, but as much as I wanted to, I didn’t see how I could connect them to this case. There was no financial need on either of their parts. Between the two of them, they raked in more money than they could ever hope to conjure.

  That left me with a handful of suspicion toward Julio, Katy, and Greg. Greg obviously needed to support Katy’s lavish tastes, so there was his motive, but he had no means. I wasn’t getting a magical vibe from any of the players, leaving me at square one.

  It was Don and Justina’s turn to take the floor, and they did it with a Latin flare. Just like in their personal conversations, Don seemed a lot more into the dance than Justina did. She kept shooting glances at Oliver, who was studiously looking anywhere but at her.

  When it was Greg and Katy’s turn to take a twirl, Wyatt tensed beside me. I ran a hand over his arms, knowing what was bothering him before he could say it.

  “I always thoug
ht that guy was slime,” he said, “but I could never prove he was sleeping with his students while they were still students.”

  “Want me to curse his penis for you?”

  He shuddered, knowing I was no good at curses. “I don’t know if I’d wish that on any man.”

  But he continued to glare at Greg, humming with angry energy. That was the hard part of his job, knowing someone was guilty and not being able to do a thing about it. Working outside the law—as I often did—had its advantages in that. The only person who had to decide if what I was doing was right was me.

  Of course, as Wyatt often liked to point out, I got it wrong as frequently as I got it right.

  “We’re on,” Wyatt whispered to me, not pushing me onto the floor so much as carrying me there. It was an impressive feat since I was wearing two hundred pounds worth of dress and makeup. Then again, I was mostly legs, anyway, awkwardly so.

  I froze once the lights hit us, along with the stares of the whole town. The friendly faces were reserved for Wyatt, the golden boy of Waresville. They even seemed to have forgiven him for shacking up with me, the troublemaker of Waresville. For a terrifying moment, I thought I would crumple like paper in a closed fist under the weight of all their stares.

  Then, Wyatt wrapped his arm around my waist, and we were dancing. I’d never taken dance lessons and knew very little from before the 70s era, but Wyatt, obviously, knew exactly what he was doing. I followed his lead, and he twirled me around the dance floor.

  A faint blush made its way to my cheeks, and I found myself giggling softly. In Wyatt’s arms, I didn’t feel awkward or like an outsider. I felt beautiful, and like I could actually dance.

  Too soon, the dance was over, and we were exiting. The marks from the judges were average at best (Melanie’s was almost a zero)—definitely my fault—except for Oliver’s which was full marks. I shot him a look, knowing full-well we didn’t dance well enough to deserve that. He returned my look with a hopeful smile, and it was like I could read his thoughts for a moment.

  At least she’s looking at me now.

  “You know,” Wyatt said to me as we swept back toward the dressing rooms, “forgiveness brings peace to both parties.”

  “Did you get that from Sarah’s book?” I said snidely, not wanting to discuss the turmoil within myself.

  Of course, I missed Oliver like a limb that had been lopped off. He’d been one of my few friends, a part of my messed-up little family. But he’d betrayed my trust, and I just didn’t know how to get past that. At least I had Vic to help fill that void now.

  We secured a private dressing room so Wyatt could help me out of the dress and all the contraptions that went along with it. The whole process was like an obstacle course that left me half-dressed, tangled up with Wyatt, and the both of us panting.

  “Think Cooper hates us for leaving him with the grandparents yet?”

  Wyatt smiled, pressing a kiss to my exposed collarbone and going back to the arduous task of undressing me. “I wasn’t thinking about my son at the moment.”

  “Hmm, that sounds promising. Just what were you thinking of?”

  So he showed me, and before long, that was all I could think of too. A bit later, the two of us stumbled out of the dressing room, looking like naughty children with sweaty faces and rumpled clothes.

  My luck being what it is, we ran straight into Oliver, who had probably been waiting for us. He took one look at us and grinned, making my face heat up a bit.

  He said nothing about our appearances, though, because he was obviously trying to get on my good side. Instead, all he said was, “You both danced beautifully.”

  Making an obviously false excuse, Wyatt left us alone for a few moments, leaving to bring the car around. I stared at my former best friend’s dark, handsome face, and I felt a sharp pang. I’d missed him.

  “He’s just here on a temporary visa,” he blurted out, looking nervous. “Don Patron. Justina’s partner.”

  “And this is important, why?”

  “He’s trying to get her to marry him, so he can stay,” Oliver elaborated, looking a little peeved.

  I wondered, then, if it was just simple jealousy, or if Oliver had actually grown to care for Justina. Certainly, he’d never cared deeply about a partner in the past, choosing to sleep with multiples at a time for fun and to keep from bonding. He had serious commitment issues.

  “So, he’s using her,” I said. “Not exactly my area of interest.”

  He shifted, uneasy. “Justina has this… idea… of how she wants a marriage proposal. It includes a very specific, very expensive ring. Princess cut, if I remember right. She won’t say yes to anyone who doesn’t have that ring, and there’s no way Don can afford it.”

  Not without illegal means, I finished for him. Raising an eyebrow, I asked, “How did you know I took on the counterfeiting case?”

  He ducked his head and mumbled, “Victoria told me.”

  “It’s Vic. So, you’ve been spying on me, basically.”

  Lurching forward, he seized my hand, the look in his eyes so sincere and pain-filled that it was impossible to doubt him. “I’m sorry, Harper. I never meant to lie to you.”

  I pulled away from him—gently, though. “I just need some time. In the meantime, there’s something you can do for me.”

  “Anything.”

  I turned on my heel, calling over my shoulder. “Cut the crap and do your job. I messed up that footwork, and you know it.”

  Chapter Six

  The next morning, I’d planned to head over to Hardy’s immediately, but Cooper impeded me. He was finally out of school for winter break—something he’d been waiting for—and that meant I had to watch him. Keep him from burning the house down, or help him do it. It was one of those options. I was sure I’d know which when the time came.

  To make matters worse, Vic came over with Hope, looking just as miserable. We both wanted to go out and solve this case, but taking children into the field—with regularity—was ill-advised.

  With a shudder, I remembered the time Cooper had been kidnapped. The memory was like ice in my veins. It couldn’t have been prevented by his involvement in the case, but it was a good example of what happened to children when their parents led dangerous lives. No, it was best to find a babysitter.

  But who?

  “My dad said I didn’t have to go back to grandma and grandpa’s,” he said, raising his chin and looking at me defiantly.

  “Then, what exactly do you suggest I do with the two of you?”

  He looked down hopefully. “Your grandma would watch us.”

  I couldn’t understand how Cooper loved Gran so much. She was crotchety, rude, and likely to turn him into a toad if he dared drink from her glasses. Still, I couldn’t deny she was decidedly less awful to Cooper, and everyone else, it appeared, than she was to me.

  “Not a good idea for you to spend too much time with Gran,” I said, another idea popping into my head as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

  Grabbing my cell phone off the table, I dialed up Oliver, who answered on the second ring.

  “Harper?” He seemed so genuinely excited that I felt a little bad about shoving two children off on him. Still, he had to do something to redeem himself. This was a good, big step in that direction.

  I told him about the situation, and he listened quietly. The old Oliver, when I hadn’t been mad at him, would’ve hung up and refused my punishment, but he only said, “I’ll need a few minutes to… get my house ready.”

  I heard what he didn’t say and laughed. “Yes, please get whoever is in your bed out before my children come over. Pants would be appreciated, too.”

  About a half an hour later, we dropped Cooper and Hope off at Oliver’s. From the look she gave him, I wasn’t sure we’d find any of them alive at the end of the couple hours of investigating, but that was a risk I was willing to take.

  After leaving Wyatt a message about where Cooper was, I sped off with Vic in tow to Hardy
’s. I was careful not to tell him where I was going, just in case he decided to try and stop me or his honor made him tell Kosher. Wyatt’s honor was a constant thumbtack in my butt.

  Hardy was actually in the store when we went in, looking like he was going to topple over and bloody his nose on the hammer display. Hovering close like a worried mama, Jeb looked comical. He was easily two feet taller than Hardy, with ten times the amount of muscle.

  Beaming at us and paying Jeb no mind, Hardy hobbled over to us. “Harper, your grandmother was just here to drop off some cookies for me. The women in your family sure are sweet.”

  “Don’t eat them,” I said automatically. Then, putting on a smile to get what I wanted, I continued in a nicer tone. “I’m actually here about the counterfeiting.”

  He frowned. “Now, I don’t want a nice girl like you getting all mixed up in that dirty business on my account.”

  Vic, ever the helpful sidekick in a mumu, said, “Don’t worry. Harper’s not a nice girl.”

  I elbowed her in her side, but she was built so solidly that it only ended up hurting my arm. “I need to go through your records. There may be a pattern of some sort in cash purchases.”

  Shaking his head, he said, “That’s all on the computer. Jeb can show you how to work it. I never could manage.”

  I shrugged at Vic, who looked at me doubtfully. “How hard can it be?”

  In the end, Jeb had to sit us down and take us right to the page we wanted. He left to help customers every once in a while, and while he wasn’t there, Vic and I kept our hands carefully in our laps, not touching the temperamental machine.

  We pored over the records of cash purchases for the last few weeks, writing down repeat customers and trying to piece together when they came, looking for patterns. Fortunately, my suspect list overlapped with Hardy’s list of customers. Unfortunately, all my suspects and the entire town got their supplies here. It didn’t exactly narrow down the pool.

  “Hey,” Vic said, “this is a pretty big shipment.”

  I looked closer, realizing she was right. A large shipment had been sent to an address just outside of town, and not one I was familiar with either. That was curious, because Hardy didn’t do a lot of deliveries. Looking closer, I jumped out of my seat when I read what the shipment was for.